Von Payne Black Whiskey Near Me Novels & Stories

I enjoy the burn as it makes its way down my throat to my belly. "I'm heading out. Hold it down for me." Summer nods her head as she pours up a drink for the warlock sitting next to me. Once I'm in my truck I light up a cigarette. I take a long drag and slowly exhale. I want to call Aiden, but I heard when he said he had club business. So, I don't. Instead I pull out of the parking lot turn right and drive in the direction of the city lights. I'm surrounded my high rises where the wealthiest beings live on the upper west side. I pull into the parking garage and park next to Payne's bike. I walk over to Payne's private elevator. I swipe the keycard and wait for the elevator to come down.

He shrugs. "You are in your own home. Who cares if you get drunk or tipsy?" I smile. "I do. I don't want to make a mistake to piss off Dex." He nods. "I will keep an eye on you, okay?" I nod. "Sounds like a good idea to me." He chuckles as Hunter walks back in. "Pappy Van Winkle 20 years old. And Domaine de la Romanee-Conti, Romanee-Conti 1988," he said. I look to Luca for any ideas. He smiles and takes them from him.

“And I’ll call you when we’re done, and we can meet back up.” Diana pulls Danielle out of her seat, looping her arm through hers and leading her away from the table. “Logan,” Peter calls as Danielle walks away. “You’re joining us, right?” “Yeah. I am.” * I sit back, swirling whiskey around my glass before taking a drink. Never in my life did I think I could be sitting outside at a bar along the ocean, drinking top-shelf whiskey that I’m not even paying for, and want to leave.

Collections of wine, all categories from foreign brandy and whisky to champagnes and red wines. Wayne grabbed a bottle of Johnnie Walker's Black Label and poured himself a hearty glass. He put in a few cubes of ice from the fridge and took a long swig at it. The whisky rushed down his throat, dousing every ounce of desire left. Nothing like a good glass of alcohol to relax you and summon sleep. He heard Rojan descend the steps and come to join him at the bar, he climbed atop one of the bar stools. Wayne gingerly poured another glass for him.

Fantastic and the wooden counter. Black seemed to be able to cover his soulmate entirely by his physical presence and to hide her this way of the indiscrete glances. He brought his face to her neck and took a deep breath. His wolf had been howling in his mind the moment she had walked away, and he had not bothered to apologize to his hosts. "A Glenlivet,18 Years, Single Malt, Whiskey...no ice." Bianca could feel chills run down her skin where his breath caressed her.

“See now was that so bad? Come big boy let me get you a drink.” “You’re gonna buy me a drink? I thought you didn't want to drink.” “I didn't because I was still working… I needed you to be of clear innocent mind while we signed over but now that we’re done and I'm off the clock… let’s knock some back.” “Well in that case let’s, but don't worry about paying I got it… what do you want to drink?” “Clean shot of green apple bourbon whiskey… If you have it.” “Do you like Jim Beam?”

"Okay, dude.. seriously, I am on May's side, and anyone who's on her side, definitely has my support. So yeah, I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm team May, which you are..." "Wow, that was fast." Payne bellowed as he took long strides toward them. The temperature suddenly dropped. Collins and Eric stared at each other with their frozen hearts in their eyes. "Did you find out if that snoopy dark Knight took my coke?" Payne asked as he settled himself between them. "Willy, three rounds of vodka for us." He said to the bartender, a man in his late forties who owed his life to Don Wick, Payne's father. Collins nearly fainted from sheer relief. Eric had to do a quick recovery from almost-at

“You’ve grown broader since you survived the Whitmore slaughter, Chika.” “Thank you, Maestro,” I say, bowing my head in respect. Vance walks over to an iron workbench and pours three glasses of dark, distilled wolf-whiskey. He pushes two glasses toward us. “Drink. It cuts through the chill of the war-zone.” I take a glass and swallow the burning liquid in one gulp, the alcohol firing through my throat while Peyton sips his cautiously, sniffing the rim first. Vance chuckles at Peyton’s paranoia. “Jamaican Blue Mountain moonshine, aged in charred silver barrels. The water temperature during distillation was kept at absolute zero to extract the raw magic.”

Grace asked, “Midnight distilleries are shit.” He smirked, “You would think so, coming from Frost Pelt, but I agree. I just got off the phone with a liquor dealer to the north who imports from overseas. He’s gotten me a meeting with the owner of Blue Ice Wolfsbane Whiskey as he can’t cut me a standing deal on it himself.” Grace didn’t even flinch. I envied her acting ability. “It’s the best whiskey in the world,” Grace said, “Felix never stocked it except in the VIP rooms. It’s hard to get a hold of, I hear.”

"It seems like an odd choice here." The silver fox and his companion frowned some more at the menu. "What are you having, there?" he asked me. "Because I'm not going to draw your ire by ordering a Bud Lite." I smiled. "I'm having a Buffalo Trace Old Fashioned." I pointed out the bourbon on the microscopically printed menu. "It's from the same distillery that makes Pappy Van Winkle. It's good!" He nodded. "That does sound good." His shorter companion shook his head. "I've been drinking too much already. Hopefully if I order a Stella the lady over there won't think less of me."